


The Man Who Sold The World

by xahra99



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gambling, Gen, Lizards, Past Relationship(s), Poor Life Choices, Space Pirates, Team Bonding, Team as Family, Tentacle Monsters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 11:41:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11035479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xahra99/pseuds/xahra99
Summary: "It was only the once. And I never got past second base."Peter loses the Earth in a lizard fighting match and deals with the consequences of past poor life choices. Set after the second movie, but no spoilers. One-shot. Complete





	The Man Who Sold The World

 

 

Peter Quill was a bad gambler. It didn’t help that he was drunk.

Although Peter possessed a tried-and-tested repertoire of excuses for his poor life choices, including (but not limited to) good booze, bad women, mind control, peer pressure and being dragged up by bloodthirsty space pirates, the truth is that it was Peter’s fault alone, and, as usual, he deserved most of what he got.

The A’askavarian twined her tentacles beneath her chin and gazed up at him sweetly. The circular suckers at the end of each limb gleamed, knife-sharp. “Where did you say you were from? Was it Xandar?”

Peter’s eyesight blurred. Two A’askavarians, tentacles pierced with slim metal rings, watched him across the lizard-fighting table. He blinked, trying to decide if the A’askavarian really did have an identical twin sister or if he was just seeing things. He finally decided he was just seeing things. “Not Xandar,” he corrected, gripping the edge of the table tightly. “Earth. Um. Terra.”

“I’ve never seen a Terran before.”

“Well, uh, I haven’t known many A’askavarians either. Well. Just one. Quite closely.”

The A’askavarian smiled graciously, displaying rows of pointed teeth studded with gems. “I’ve never heard of Earth,” she said. “Are you your species’ only envoy?”

“Me?” Peter snorted in contempt. He choked as he inhaled half of his drink, and decided that the snort had been a mistake.

The A’askavarian curled the tip of one tentacle around her own glass and sipped her own drink as she waited for Peter to recover. Each sucker disengaged with a faint popping noise when she set the glass down. “You were saying?”

Peter peered at his reflection in his own glass. The bar’s flashing neon lights made it impossible to see if he was still purple from choking, or not. “I’m not an envoy,” he said, smoothing his hair into a more dashing style. “I’m something even more important. I’m uh, a Lord. Star-Lord? The legendary outlaw?”

“My people don’t recognize hierarchical societies,” the A’askavarian said, shrugging.

“Then you don’t have titles. That’s cool.” He felt the A’askavarian didn’t appreciate how truly cool that was, so he told her again. “That’s really cool.”

The A’askavarian mistook intoxication for interest. “We receive our ranks by lot before we’re hatched,” she explained, baring her teeth in a lazy, shark-like grin.  “We consume the weaker members of society as soon as we are able. This makes us strong.”

It was much more than Peter, or for that matter any sane or sober person, wanted to know about A’askavarian society. He grimaced and raised his glass to his mouth. “Sounds fun.”

The A’askavarian smile widened. “So, you’re an important man among your people?” 

Peter brightened. He was much more comfortable talking about himself than he was discussing A’askavarians eating their young. “That’s right.”

“What’s your planet like?”

“Earth?” Peter lifted his glass once more. To his disappointment, it turned out to be empty. “It’s awesome.”

The A’askavarian beckoned with her tentacle to a server, who hastened forwards with more drinks on a tray. “O’erlanii is beautiful. But it’s not impressive, once you’ve seen the stars. What is so wonderful about your Earth?”

Peter sprang to the Earth’s defence as eloquently as his liquor-mangled mind allowed. “You’d like it. Third planet from our sun. Right on the edge of the galaxy. Great view. Very blue.” He glanced at the A’askavarian’s grass-coloured skin. “And green, if you like green. Very green.”

She looked unimpressed. “O’erlanii is _green._ ”

“Wonderful food,” Peter continued. “Potatoes, fried chicken, Doritos…Tab Clear. And clothes. Brilliant clothes.”  He leaned closer, whispering. “We have _shell suits_.”

“A’askavarii don’t wear clothes,” the A’askavarian informed him.

Peter looked the six-foot tall gilled humanoid up and down. “So I see.”

“Are all Earth creatures like you?”

“Well,” Peter gestured down at himself, spilling most of his drink down his jacket. “I’m a good example. Excellent specimen. We’re bipedal. Carbon-based. And we like dancing. Some of us have talking cars.” He looked thoughtful. “Wait, it’s 2014. We probably all have talking cars.”

 “Your planet sounds quite intriguing,” agreed the A’askavarian, flicking out her tongue to taste the word. “Eeearth. Am I pronouncing it right?”

“Sounds good to me.”

The A’askavarian trailed a tentacle around Peter’s shoulders. “Then why don’t we make that bet more interesting?”

Peter smiled and drank. “Why not?”

Thirty minutes later, the monitor above the lizard-gaming table blared a fanfare and flashed Peter’s losing score. The last of his Orloni rat-lizards squirmed in the skink’s mouth. The skink yawned, opening its mouth just wide enough for the Orloni to wriggle free before it adjusted its grip and crunched down. The larger lizard’s jaws neatly severed the unfortunate Orloni’s torso. Colourless blood sizzled in the flaming jets set into the gaming table. The A’askavarian’s Orloni had long since scurried home. Peter blinked, hoping the result was just a figment of his increasingly fuzzy vision. Unfortunately for him, it was not.

He leaned forwards and poked the dead rat-lizard hopefully. The Orloni resolutely refused to resurrect. “I knew that was a bad idea.”

The A’askavarian leaned over the table and smiled brightly at Peter.  “For you, perhaps,” she said.

“Double or nothing?” Peter suggested.

“Perhaps we should take a little break,” the A’askavarian agreed. She raised one of her tentacles and clapped Peter on the shoulder. Her suckers left neat cookie-cutter scars on his leather jacket. “Don’t go anywhere, sweetheart. I’m watching.”

“Never crossed my mind,” Peter lied.

He slunk back to their table as fast as his legs would carry him. It was no speedy retreat. The liquor’s buzz was fading, replaced by a throbbing headache. His jacket was sticky.

There were five seats at the table, but four of them were empty. Gamora was the only one of the Guardians remaining. She had her weapons cleaning kit laid out in front of her. Her rings chimed against each other as she scraped a whetstone slowly along her blade, tapping her fingers in time to the music. 

“Peter,” she said, as she saw him. “Let us go. This place is tedious.”

“It’s about to get a whole lot more interesting,” Peter said. He borrowed a rag from Gamora and scrubbed ineffectually at his jacket. “We have to leave. Right now.”

Gamora rolled her eyes. She snatched the rag from Peter, tossed it back into her kit, rolled up the kit and grasped her blade in one swift movement so practised it looked like a dance. “What have you done?”

Peter explained.

Gamora stared at Peter as if he had grown tentacles himself. “You did _what_?” she demanded. “This is a joke. You know what they say about A’askavarians?”

Peter pressed a finger to his jacket and licked it. “The only thing I know about A’askavarians is that they have way too many tentacles and they don’t take refusal well.”

“The one thing everybody _else_ in the galaxy knows about A’askavarians is that they _never lose a bet_.”

Peter gestured over to the gaming table, where the A’askavarian sat, tentacles folded. She saw him staring and gave a little wave. “You could have told me that before I started!”

Gamora sighed in annoyance. “I am not your mother, Quill.”

“Quill once laid with an A’askavarian,” Drax informed them both, appearing behind Peter’s chair with uncanny silence for such a large man. Mantis followed, a cheerful tugboat to Drax’s mighty dreadnaught.

 “It was one time!”

“Yes,” Gamora said. “One time. This time, you just got screwed.”

 “Thanks for that.”

She nodded. “My pleasure.”

Mantis looked from one to the other. “I do not understand,” she said as Rocket sidled up. Groot perched upon the raccoon’s shoulder like a parrot on a pirate’s epaulette.

“Hey, Quill,” Rocket said, brushing grease from his fur.  “What’s up.”

“Don’t ask,” said Peter.

If Rocket had eyebrows, he would have raised them. “Okay, now I _really_ want to know.”

“I am Groot,” said Groot.

“Damn right he looks guilty,” agreed Rocket.

“Peter,” Gamora ordered, “explain.”

Peter squirmed.

“I am Groot,” said Groot.

“ _Now,_ ” Gamora said.

Peter sighed. “It was an honest mistake,” he explained, which meant that his error had been neither honest not a mistake.  “I was at a lizard-fighting match. Chatting to this A’askavarian girl. She asked me if I was the Earth envoy, I thought, well, as I’m the only Earther in the galaxy right now, I kinda _am_. So I agreed.”

“Cut to the chase, Quill,” Rocket demanded.

Peter took a deep breath. “I bet the Earth on a lizard-fighting match,” he explained. “And I lost.”

Rocket scratched his head. “Don’t you know about A’askavarians?”

“I do _now,_ ” Peter said.

Mantis furrowed her forehead. Her antennae brightened. “I do not understand,” she said.

Drax laid a friendly hand upon her shoulder. Rolls of muscle shifted like mountain ranges. “Everything will be all right,” he boomed. “Friend Quill would not bet if he were not certain of his stake.”

The Guardians of the Galaxy stared at Drax like he was from another planet, which he was. 

“Ya think?” Rocket asked.

“We’ve been together for months,” Gamora said to Drax, “and yet you still don’t know Quill at all.”

“I am Groot,” said Groot.

“He thinks that you should let her have it,” Rocket explained. “Earth’s just a planet. Plenty more where that came from.”

“It’s not just a planet!” protested Peter. “Billions of people live there. It’s my home!”

“Then you should have thought of that before you bet it!”

Gamora sheathed her sword and turned to Peter. “We should sort this out before it goes any further. It’s far too late for you to sneak away. Maybe we can help you out.” She smacked Peter on the shoulder. “Not that you deserve it.”

“If we fail,” Drax agreed, “Quill can seduce her. He has experience in such matters.”

Mantis gazed at him with eyes even wider than usual. “I have never met a man before who has mated with an A’askavarian and lived.”

“I am Groot,” said Groot.

Rocket snickered.

“Guys,” Peter said. “Not helpful!”

Given that he was already three parts drunk, Peter thought he did a credible job of approaching the A’askavarian as if he was sober. With Drax to his left and Gamora to his right, he had no option but to walk a straight line. He hoped he looked dashing, debonair, perhaps even a little dangerous, but a quick glance into the reflective surface of a bottle showed a red-faced man with tangled hair, wide eyes, and a slightly demented expression.

The A’askavarian’s gills flared wide as she saw him. “Peter Quill,” she said sibilantly. “And your companions. I hope you’ve come to pay your debt.”

“Yeah,” Peter ran a finger round the tight collar of his leather jacket, which seemed even tighter. “About that.”

“Your reputation precedes you,” the A’askavarian went on. “Peter Quill…Star-Lord.”

“She remembered my name!” Peter muttered to Gamora.

“Shut up!” Gamora whispered, her words edged as a blade. “Unless you remember hers?”

Peter searched the pockets of his mind. He came up empty, and shook his head slightly. Gamora rolled her eyes again.

“I thought you seemed familiar,” said the A’askavarian. “You used to be second mate of the Ravagers, didn’t you?”

 Peter nodded. “Five years back. Why?”

The A’askavarian’s smile faded. “Your _Ravagers_ ,” she hissed, “broke the bank of A’askavaria six years ago. The bank failed. People panicked and withdrew their money, causing a major economic collapse. Millions of people lost their savings. Some lost their lives.”

“Yeah,” Peter scratched his neck. “I forgot about that.”

“We,” snapped the A’askavarian, “have not.” 

“So there’s no hope I can convince you to forgive my bet?”

The A’askavarian folded her limbs. A’askavarii possessed three pairs of tentacles instead of one pair of arms, and the effect was most impressive. “I’m afraid not.” she said, courteous but implacable. “Pay up.”

Peter gave her his best smile. “Double or nothing?”

The A’askavarian frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “Your suggestion makes no sense. Unless you have _two_ planets.”

“I can do better than that,” Peter told her. “I’ve got a whole solar system. Eight, no, _nine_ planets. A whole bunch of moons. And one sun.”

The A’askavarian looked interested. “What is your sun called?”

“We call it the Sun.” Peter said.

“How boring,” she said. “And no spaceflight at all?”

“We’ve had men on the moon.”

The A’askavarian gazed at Peter with eyes the colour of primordial soup. “Your planet sounds very primitive. Was this your first time lizard-fighting?”

“No!”

She looked surprised. “You’re not very good at it.”

“Then you shouldn’t have any problem accepting my bet!”

The A’askavarian leaned on the table and slipped a tentacle under her scaled cheek. “That is true,” she said. “Very well. I accept. If I win, I keep your solar system. If I lose, I’ll return the Earth to you. Single-lizard match, sudden death, usual rules apply. As I’m feeling generous, you may enter an Orloni of your choice.” 

“It’s a deal,” Peter agreed. He extended a hand. The A’askavarian wrapped one tentacle around his wrist, grasping hard enough to bruise. Her suckers indented his skin. Razor edges pressed lightly against his palm, withdrawing without causing damage. She crooked one tentacle and gestured to a Kree server. The Kree bowed and hurried away.

The lizard-fighting table glowed invitingly. The skink basking in the centre of the table licked its chops Peter rubbed his hands together, smearing stale alcohol over his palms. “Right,” he said cheerfully. “Let’s save the Earth!”

“It’s not the same if you’re the reason your planet’s in danger,” Gamora pointed out.

Peter stole Gamora’s drink and downed it. He was beginning to regain a little bit of his buzz.  “Let’s bring out the lizards!”

Lights flashed. Flames three feet high jetted from the table. No lizards appeared.

The A’askavarian smiled slowly, exposing every tooth one by one. A’askavarians had hundreds of teeth, so her grin took a while. “It’s getting late. It seems the Orloni handler has gone home.”

“You have to be kidding me.” Peter said. He looked around for another drink, but saw none within arms’ reach.

“Luckily, I have my own lizard,” the A’askavarian said. She waved one tentacle towards the Kree server, who hastened forwards with a silver cage containing a chittering Orloni. The server set the cage down in front of the A’askavarian and stepped back with a flourish.

Peter folded his arms. “Well, I don’t.”

“Pity.”

“That wasn’t in our deal.”

“Then you should have made a better deal.” said the A’askavarian. She snaked the tip of one tentacle through the bars and tickled the Orloni under the chin. “I’m afraid our bet is off. We can sign the papers at the bar.”

“There must be some way we can solve this,” said Gamora.

The A’askavarian smiled. “You’re very reasonable for one of Thanos’s daughters. Perhaps you would like to make a wager?”

Gamora smiled back. Her smile had less teeth than the A’askavarian by far. Despite that she somehow managed to look more threatening. “I don’t bet. Only Quill is that foolish.”

“Hey!” Peter scowled at Gamora. This expression of his displeasure had absolutely no effect on Gamora, who was cleaning her fingernails ostentatiously with her sword and glaring threateningly at the A’askavarian.

The A’askavarian nodded. “Excellent. I see you’ve accepted my challenge.”

She opened the Orloni’s cage, caught the rat-lizard around its plump belly and fed the creature into the nearest chute. The Orloni vanished into the tunnels beneath the gaming table.

“What challenge?” asked Peter.

Gamora frowned. “I issued no challenge.”

Rocket looked around. “Where’s Groot?”

Peter slapped a hand across his forehead. “Oh no.”

The lizard-fighting table lit up like a Christmas tree. The A’askavarian’s Orloni rocketed from one chute, powerful back legs bunching as it scampered across the table. Groot sprinted from the other.

“No, no, no, no, no!” Rocket made a grab for the tiny tree, but Groot avoided the raccoon’s grasp with ease. 

“I am Groot!” he screamed.

The skink woke instantly from its slumber. It lumbered towards the two racing bodies, each step worth three of the Orloni’s bounds to six of Groot’s tiny strides. The skink covered the board with surprising speed, the tassels knotted around its stubby limbs trailing behind it as it lunged for Groot, who attempted to slide beneath the lizard’s body. The skink darted its head around, prehensile tongue seeking the tips of Groot’s branches.

The background music surged to window-shattering levels. Glasses vibrated on the bar. The patrons closest to the speakers clapped their hands or appendages of choice across their ears as guitars tuned to maximum volume twanged soulfully.

“ _Listen to the wind blow…watch the sun riiiiise!”_

Peter stuck his fingers in his ears. “What’s going on?” he shouted.

“I hacked the speakers earlier!” yelled Rocket. His ears flattened against his head as the bass kicked in. “I thought it’d be funny!”

“Well, it isn’t!”

“I know that now!” Rocket shouted. He made another leap for the skink, but his paws closed on empty air. “I should have picked a better time!”

“You shouldn’t have done it at all!”

“That’s just what I could say to you!

_“Break the silence…damn the dark, damn the light!”_

The A’askavarian watched them argue with an amused, toothy smile. Groot rolled away from the skink, struggled to his feet, and started running. The skink followed, heavy feet shaking the table, but was distracted briefly by the A’askavarian’s Orloni, who dodged around a jet of flame and bounced off the skink’s leathery hide.  

“Quill, he’s losing!” Rocket yelled. “Call it off! Now!”

“I can’t give her the Earth! It’s my home!”

“We can always steal it back!” Rocket pleaded. “Let her have it! Please!”

Drax lunged across the table for the skink. He missed. His massive fist cracked the plastic table. Gamora snarled a curse and stalked towards the A’askavarian, sword raised. Mantis stared helplessly at them all.

“All right, hold up!” Peter held up both his hands. “Hold up!”

“No, wait!” Gamora pointed. “One moment-”

Peter followed her gaze. In the background Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham continued their aural assault.  As they watched, Groot extended his hands and began to dance. Swaying to the music, he executed a perfect face wave and began grooving to the bass riff.

The skink turned and charged, tongue lolling. Groot slid out of the lizard’s path at the last moment, head tilted back, eyes closed.

“ _And if you don’t love me now_ ,” Stevie Nicks sang, “ _you can never love me again_.”

“Eyes open, Groot!” Rocket shouted!

“What is this music?” demanded the A’askavarian. “Turn it off.”

“We’re not turning it off,” said Gamora.

“The tree is a most excellent dancer!” boomed Drax. 

“I am Groot!” sang Groot.

“.. _.I can still hear you saying, you can never break the chain, break the chain!_ ”

The A’askavarian rose, gripping the table with her tentacles so hard the wood splintered. “What _is_ this racket?”

“That’s Fleetwood Mac, baby,” Peter said, and gave her his best smile.

The skink turned and flung itself down the table towards Groot and the lizard. Groot spread his arms and performed a perfect electric slide. The skink sank its teeth into the A’askavarian’s Orloni as the melody came to its final, crashing end, and the speakers exploded in a shower of sparks.

All the lights went out.

Peter heard a chorus of screams, a couple of gunshots (this was Knowhere, after all) and a shrill, truncated squeak. He peered into the blackness, eyes wide to absorb any available light.

“Where’s Groot?” Rocket asked.

One by one, a billow of glowing sparks drifted up from one of the fighting-table’s chutes. Groot clambered out, surrounded by grains of pollen that shone like fireflies. He gazed at them with round dark eyes and struck a pose reminiscent of John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever.

“I am Groot!” he solemnly informed them.

Rocket reached out to gather up the tiny tree. “Yes, you are, buddy,” he said quietly. “But don’t you dare do anything like that again. Quill can lose his stupid planet.”

Groot shrugged. “I am Groot,” he said.

“Yes!” Drax punched the air. “Groot has vanquished his enemies! The A’askavarian’s Orloni is dead!”

The skink perched in the centre of the table, meditatively chewing the tail of the deceased Orloni as enthusiastically as a child might eat an ice-cream. As Peter watched, the skink sucked in the last inch of tail, swallowed, and burped.

The A’askavarian looked dismayed. “I’ve heard tales about you, Peter Quill,” she said. “I should have listened.”

“It was only the once!” Peter protested. “And I never got past second base.”  

The A’askavarian frowned. “I don’t know what that means,” she said.

Drax raised a hand “I know this one!” He turned to the A’askavarian. “The Terran states that he failed to impregnate his last A’askavarian companion.”

The A’askavarian’s brow ridges shot up. “Interesting. Many people are such xenophobes.”

Peter turned to Drax. “Remember that conversation?”

“We have had many conversations.”

“The one we had on what was and was not appropriate?”

“That one was boring.” Drax shrugged. “You Earth folk have issues.”

The A’askavarian slid a tentacle around Peter’s shoulder. “I suppose you’ve won your bet,” she said, a little wistfully, her gaze sliding over to the empty table and the now-somnolent skink. “The Earth is yours once more. It is a pity. That was my favourite Orloni.”

“Well, the Earth’s my favourite planet,” Peter said.

“Yes,” agreed the “A’askavarian. “It sounded nice.”

“Earth’s awesome,” Peter agreed. Groot tugged at his sleeve, and he hoisted the tiny tree onto his shoulder. “It’s my home. And it’s not for sale.”

The A’askavarian smiled “Pity.” she said, tucking a folded napkin into Peter’s breast pocket. “Goodbye, Peter Quill.”

“Yeah. See ya around.”

“And Peter?”

“Yes?”

“Call me,” said the A’askavarian. She picked up her cage and walked away, tentacles undulating gracefully.

“I think we’ve all learned a valuable lesson here today,” Gamora said as they watched her go.

“Don’t tell me,” Peter said. “Don’t bet against an A’askavarian.”

“No.” Gamora smiled and patted the little tree’s head. “Groot’s growing up.”

“Well, perhaps there’s hope for Quill,” said Rocket.

“I heard that!” said Peter.            

“I know,” replied Rocket.

Drax nudged Peter. “Think of it this way,” he rumbled. “You could be known as the man who has lain _twice_ with an A’askavarian.”

Gamora narrowed her eyes. “Drax, was that a _joke_?”

“Drax,” said Peter, “do me a favour.”

“Anything, Friend Quill.”

Peter took the napkin from his pocket, unfolded the paper, and flicked it into the trash. “Shut up,” he said.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the David Bowie song, which wasn't in the movies but was around long enough for Peter to have heard it.  
> A bit of fun :) Watch this space for more GOTG fics! If you enjoyed, leave me a comment.


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